The Washington critic., 1887-01-08
ONE WOMAN'S WAY.

HBrec On I'LL points, ny uny Hlcuus, pub
such disagreement seemed to be quite
outside of our joint life. We assimi-
lated more and more, till l came TO
worder how l had ever lived without
him, and to think of marriage as the
very gateway to heaven that could
hardly hold more happiness than we
knew from day to day.
John had an Office on Main street, but
went to 1t only in the afternoon, all
special cases coming to the house, and
there he did his hardest work. study
Ing often late into the night. | fought
this habit as far as possible, for 1t is an
eXhaustlug one, but he insisted that he
could never think SO clearly at any
other time.
Now aud then he drank glass of
claret; sometimes | made chocolate and
left 1t for him, but the claret he
thought suited him better. | was &C.
customed to see my father take 1t daily,
and though / half wished that John
need not depend on it. it seemed wild
nonsense TO think the habit a danger.
GUS one.
We have lived together three years.
Stephen was u year old before there
seemed any reason for real anxiety.
Then found that John hand shook
In the morning; that he had no appe
lite, and was nervous and irritable till
the day was well on towards noon,
though never to me. i could not bear
to question him but the opportunity
came one night, when he was specially
anxious over case and / volunteered
to help him. | sat with him till one
in the morning and grew more and
more startled. Claret had given place
to burgundy. The bottle sat by him,
and lie drank glass after glass as IL 1t
had been water. lie seldom took wine
at the table and had not realized how
the habit had grown. lie looked up
as the work ended, pushed away the
papers, and came around to my chair,
looking half startled, but with the fond.
ness he always showed.
You are worn out, my darling" he
said. II had no right to keep you so.
What Is it2"
Then / told him, and as / spoke q
horrible dread came over me, aud /
clung to him as if he were in some
mortal peril. He laughed at first, and
then grew very serious, and sat look
ing at me as spoke, till finally could
do nothing but cry.
Dear" he said at last "all the
strength there is in 1t is not worth the
suffering you have had this evening.
I'll go back to the claret and half ra.
tions, and you must promise never to
worry so again"
Then implored him TO give IL all
up, and when he urged that he could
not work without, ] told him that was
the strongest reason for dropping 1t al
together. But IL ended in half indigna-
tion on his part that | would not trust
him, and the fear on mine that perhaps
was unreasonable, and so 1t rested
there.
did not trust him. lie showed me
the bottle one day and told me laugh
ingly, was carrying my point after
all, for he had come down TO third of
bottle, and really thought he felt the
better for 1t. But there was change
in John. 1t came almost impercepti-
bly,. lie grew moody and fltful, ir.
ritable TO the children aud sometimes
TO his clients; in the highest spirits at
times and then correspondingly de-
pressed. People thought his health
was breaking down from overworll,
and the doctor told him he was well on
In nervous prostration, and that a few
months or even weeks longer would
bring him TO stage from which re-
covery might be impossible.
I'll ink / knew the real cause intui-
lively, though John never spoke of
his state, and curious silence had
grown up between us. That wine had
anything TO do with II, every one would
have denied. His daily habits were as
regular as possible. Hewas naturally me
thodical, and an enormous worker, and
his singularly quiet, courteous manner
was the best shield he could have had.
But | had learned some of the signs,
and now studied every accessible au-
thority.
| studied them oil as If my very life
depended on knowing it all. Some
thing dearer than my life did depend.
IT was hard in all the opposing views
to find firm ground on which to stand,
but did at last. found that books
on food must be included, and / went
through every real authority with this
same passion Of eagerness TO know
what was right--what share | had in
helping or hindering the work wanted
10 do.
For a long time John had locked
himself into the library on the plea
that carelea3 servants sometimes bOllCd
in suddenly and destroyed his train of
thought. 1t was Saturday night In
early June-I remember always the
breath Of the apple blossoms that came
TO me as | stood for moment in the
open doorway, then turned and
knocked at the library door, John
opened 1t lrritably.
Haven't | told you | must not be
disturbed in the evening"" he began,
then stopped short, as / closed the
door behind me and drew him to the
sofa. a bottle stood on the table.
There was the smell of brandy in the
air,
Il have kept away too long, I said,
"Whatever the struggle is, John,
must lie part Of it.
There was long silence. / prayed
that he mightspeak, AT last he turned
to me.
at is too late he said, and he
shrank away from me as / took his
hand. I've given up, Mary, as my
father did before me. ! am not fit to
touch you, my darling, and | do not
mean to. The best thing for you is to
leave me altogether. shall go abroad
for rest-as the doctor orders, and
let 1t end MS soon as possible | have
fought until there If no fight left, and
| am weaker than water. Nothing
helps me- There is no help but IN
death.
There is no need TO tell you OF those
hours Of confession and anguish in
which | took the poor, distracted head
to my breast, and it lay there quiet and
hopeless till my own faith brought